Samnesia
by Molly Lyn
Summary: A hot call at an ice cream parlour ends less than favourably, leaving team one members injured, and one injury with potentially lasting effects. Set sometime post season 4, this story will have spoilers from seasons 1-4. Jammy.
1. Sambushed

******A/N: Helloooo! I know, I have like a bajillion other stories to finish, and I promise I am working on it. But this got me sidetracked and I fought writing it for a while but I lost that battle and so here it is. 1 - The title, well, I probably could have done better, and I hope it doesn't affect your opinion of the story. 2 - Chapter titles will follow the same theme, because in a moment (or several moments) of too much fun Tirsh and I came up with a list of ridiculous SamThings and I need to share them. Not ALL of them will be used, so don't panic Tirsh (no unquenchable thirsts in this story), but a lot. **

******Additional A/N at the end of the chapter, to avoid inadvertent spoilage, in case anyone hasn't caught on.**

* * *

**_"Team one, Hot Call! Suit up!"_**

The alert came within minutes of team one's arrival at HQ for their usual pre-shift workout.

Greg approaches the dispatcher in disbelief. "Winnie?"

She shakes her head, knowing exactly what he's asking. "Four is out serving a warrant still and two has got their hands full at a bank downtown. If you like I can officially call you guys in but since you were here I figured-" She stops as she realizes no one is listening, having simply set off to gear up and officially start their shift. Early.

"Ok, team," Greg Parker's voice rings clear through his team's communications system. "We've got a bomb threat at the Scoop Slingers on Yonge."

Raf shakes his head in disbelief, shooting Ed an weary glance. "Bombs at an ice cream parlour?"

Greg sighs. "A disgruntled former employee sent the threat by email. The threat is fairly textbook for a prankster, but from what Winnie has gathered on the subject he certainly seems capable of building and using a bomb."

"Criminal record?"

"Honours chemistry student."

"Excellent."

The SUVs come to a halt outside of the ice cream parlour, careful to park a fair distance away in case the threat proves to be real. With that, teams are created for a search of the building. Jules and Ed take the staff entrance at the back of the building, Sam and Spike the main entrance. Raf remains in the truck with Greg, having recently expressed interest in improving his profiling skills.

"Break room is clear," Jules announces, following Ed to check a storage closet.

"Cafe portion is clear," Sam replies, nodding as Spike grasps the handle on the walk in fridge and they prepare for what might await them on the other side.

"We've located the device."

The announcement comes from both Spike and Jules.

"Wait, what?"

"Son of a-"

Greg stands as the voice of reason. "Team, what are we looking at in there?"

"There are two. One in the fridge, one in the storage room."

The sergeant takes a deep breath, runs a hand across his bald head. "Ok. We need to know what kind of bombs we're dealing with here but first thing's first: We need to limit the amount of people in that building. Spike?"

"Its on a timer. I can disarm this one relatively easily, but it'd be great to know what I'm going into before I get to the second one."

Greg nods, nervously pacing the mobile command truck. "Alright. Jules, Eddie, you guys get out of there. Sam, go get a look at that second bomb. Tell us anything you can, send pictures and we'll either help you through it or at least be prepared when Spike is ready to tackle that one."

"Copy that." Sam nods to Spike who nods in return.

Having cleared the building, Ed and Jules set out to secure the surrounding area while Raf and Greg continue their investigation into the subject, as they wait for Sam to send them pictures of the second bomb.

Working with Ed to push the perimeter around the building back, Jules pauses as she examines the growing crowd. "Hey, Ed?"

"Yeah?"

"To your left, behind the brunette next to the mailbox… is that…"

Ed gives a quick nod, signalling Jules to join him. "Boss, we've got eyes on our subject."

Greg nods from his position in the truck, glad to have one less thing on his to do list. "Alright Eddie, hold your position for now, we can't spook him. Spike? Any chance he's got a remote?"

Spike shakes his head. "If he does it's not for this one. Sam buddy have you got a flashlight on you? Mine's dead and the lighting in here isn't exactly functional."

"Got you covered," Sam confirms, returning to the freezer to give Spike his flashlight.

"Uh oh."

Raf stops mid keystroke as he turns to Greg, who shakes his head. "What's uh oh, Jules?"

"Subject knows he's been made… Ed and I are in pursuit."

Greg shoots a glance at Raf who frantically returns to his monitor to review the pictures Sam had sent them. "Ok. Ok. Any signs of a remote?"

"Negative."

"Hands are empty."

"Good," Greg nods, turing his attention back to Spike and Sam. "Spike, how's it going in there buddy?"

"First bomb clear. Just about to go to-"

The sound echoes through team one's radio, followed by an intense burst of feedback which prompts the entire team to rip their comms from their ears. Time seems to stand still for minutes before any distinguishable sounds make their way through the speakers.

"Subject secure," Ed announces, clicking the handcuffs closed.

"What the hell just happened?" Jules asks, leading the subject back around the corner towards the ice cream parlour. "Oh my god."

Greg throws open the door of the command truck as he bursts out of the vehicle, closely followed by Raf. "Sam, Spike, status!"

* * *

Greg makes a judgment call. Decides that debrief can wait until the next morning when the team will be whole again. After clearing the scene, the remaining members of team one make their way to the hospital. Jules reluctantly reclaims her place in the passenger's seat of the SUV she and Ed arrived in. Sure, she'd much rather be behind the wheel, but Ed makes for a poor passenger and she's not in the mood to argue.

She knows they're both ok. She was there when the fire rescue team hauled her two teammates out of what remained of the ice cream parlour. She kept on her mask of serene professionalism as she directed the unis to maintain the perimeter, while cautiously casting glances towards Greg, and of course towards the building in question. The cafe portion had been gutted - the explosion tearing through the tables & chairs, breaking windows and sending shards of glass to the street outside. Sure, it was terrifying at first. But that first blip, the first muffled sound over the radio told her they were ok.

_Sarge?_

One word. Spike's one word. Then another, and then a sentence.

_We're still in the freezer._

She'd never been so happy to hear the word freezer in her life. Sure, they didn't escape the blast unscathed. While the freezer had remained intact, it had also been flipped on it's side. She'd been mildly peeved at the time, and technically still is, that the shoppe hadn't splurged for a refrigerated room, rather than simply placing in a walk in freezer. While the freezer was still intact along the outside, the inside, from what she'd heard from Spike, was less than organized. The many tubs of ice cream along the shelves had become rather large, rather frozen, projectiles, which explained the lack of conversation from Sam.

From what Spike gathered, Sam had taken a hit to the head courtesy of a tub of raspberry swirl, and a second thanks to a shelf on his way down. Aside from the obvious twin bruises forming on either side of his face - for which there would surely be teasing in the morning - Spike was fairly certain there would be no permanent damage. Just Sam, sleeping on the job.

"Jules? You still with us?"

She jolts. "Yeah. Why?"

Ed looks her over and directs her attention to outside the vehicle. "We're here."

The team regroups at the front doors and heads into the hospital. Greg checks with the reception nurse, who directs them to a waiting area. They're quickly joined by a doctor, who informs that both Spike and Sam are being treated for minor contact burns from being pressed up against the side of the freezer. Spike's also got a broken finger of all things, and a sprained ankle from the fall he took when the freezer went over. Sam's pretty banged up, mainly just bruises but he'll definitely be hurting in the morning. His head injury has him admitted for the night, but the doctors assure the team he'll be released in the morning.

"Jules?"

"Natalie, hi."

The blonde shakes her head, frantically looking around as she approaches the balance of team one. "What the hell happened?"

All at once she knows exactly why Natalie is there. "You're Spike's emergency contact?"

"Of course," she huffs. "What?"

"I don't know, I just didn't realize…"

"Use your brain, Jules. We live together, his Ma' is overseas, his sister is irrelevant… anyway what the hell happened? All they said was there was an incident."

Jules nods, choosing to ignore the tone of annoyance clearly directed at her. "There was a bomb in a shoppe downtown. Spike's alright, just some minor injuries from a fall and some time spent in a deep freeze. He should be done soon."

Natalie exhales, relieved to hear that the injuries had been relatively minor, although somewhat confused at the mention of a freezer. Looking around the room a new sense of worry and confusion settles on her features. "What about Sam? Where is he?"

"He was with Spike," Jules explains, raising a hand to ward off the questions she knows threaten to spill out of Natalie's mouth at any second. "He took a few good hits to the head in the explosion, and he's going to be pretty bruised up from the fall, but he's ok. Last I heard he was unconscious and they would be keeping him overnight, but they said nothing life threatening."

She waits with Natalie until the team is allowed back to see Spike and Sam. She stops by the gurney where Spike sits, muttering about how his broken finger will impede his ability to type, watches as Natalie coddles him. She quietly lets him know how glad she is that he's ok, and excuses herself to check on Sam. She takes an update from the nurse as she reaches his room, smiles and nods as they explain the possibility of a concussion and the necessity of a neurological exam once he wakes up. With that out of the way she sets about settling in for the night. She drags over a chair and the newspaper and makes herself at home. Looking around, she's satisfied that the team is busy with Spike, and maybe even intentionally allowing her a minute alone with Sam, and drops the paper to the bedside table. Looking at Sam, she moves to sit on the side of his bed.

"Oh Sam," she sighs, running a finger across his cheek. "I know you like sleeping on the job, but I'd sure feel a lot better if you'd come to tonight. Just for a little while. I know, spending that much time in a walk in freezer - with Spike - must have been exhausting. Poor boy," she smirks, setting a kiss just above his brow. With that she's off the bed again, moving to close the blinds from the glare of the rapidly setting sun outside.

"You this friendly with all your teammates?"

Jules turns around, nearly giddy at the sound of his voice, grinning as she returns to his bedside. "Only the ones I live with," she tells him with a wink. "How are you feeling?" She asks, instinctively grasping his hand in hers.

He licks his lips, pauses with a thoughtful look on his face as he peers down at their joined hands. "Confused."

Jules nods, smiles. "Well, there was a second bomb. You and Spike were in the walk-in freezer when it went off and sent you two - and the freezer - flying. The fire department's rescue team had to pry the door off to get you two out."

Sam nods, his face once again contorting in confusion. "That makes no sense. Why would a bank have a walk in freezer? How did I get in it when I was in the truck? Why are you…" He shakes his head, finally realizing the ability to let go of her hand. "Did I miss something?"

"What?" Now she's confused. "What do you mean?"

"Look, it's not that I don't appreciate the concern but you don't have to be nice to me just because something happened to me on a call."

"What the hell? Sam? What are you talking about?" She pulls her hand back in confusion, shock evident on her face. "Sam cut the act, it's not funny."

His brow furrows as he moves to sit up straighter, his head spinning as he tries to do so. "Look I don't know what you think but…"

Jules swallows hard, shaking her head. "Ok, I might regret asking this but Sam, what's the date today?"

He glares at her with his best _are you stupid_ look, shaking his head right back at her. "August 8th. Friday, August 8. Why?"

"Nothing. Um, no reason," she stammers, nearly knocks over the chair as she gets out of it. "Excuse me a moment."

* * *

**A/N: 3- I know, is there a concept that's more overdone? Still had to do it... All I ask is that you give me another chapter or two to get into it before you tell me it sucks. :) **

_**Next Chapter: Samnesiac - Sam's got a bit of an issue on his hands...**_


	2. The Samnesiac

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! I suppose that means I'll need to continue this story… Oh well. Here you go!**

* * *

"I'm told I lost a few years."

From her position at the doorway Jules nods, but doesn't venture further into the room. "A little over four, actually."

Sam nods along, blows out a deep breath. "The doctor said my memory shouldn't take long to come back."

"I know."

"They told you?"

"Well, I am your emergency contact."

"Oh. Right."

There's an awkward pause as the two search for the right thing to say next. He's really only got the basics. He knows her name - it's Jules. Jules Callaghan. He knows it's not short for Julia, but he's not sure what it actually is short for. He knows that she lacks a standard coffee order - sometimes cream no sugar, sometimes a double double. He doesn't know why. He's guessing she knows how to swim, knows she spent some time razzing him for his lack of aquatic skills in the back of her jeep. He doesn't know why she drives a jeep, if she still drives a jeep. He knows she takes her job seriously, and that she saw right through him when he invited her for _just_ a burrito. He wonders what changed, how they ended up together. Last he remembers he was staying in a hotel room, looking at lousy studio apartment after miserable one bedroom apartment.

"You said earlier that we live together?"

She nods, dares to move further into the room under the pretense of adjusting an errant blind. "Moved into a house together a couple months ago."

He purses his lips as he raises his eyebrows, nodding his apparent approval. "They said I could go home first thing in the morning. I guess that means home with you?" It's a half statement half question as he tries to figure out just how this is going to work. "That could be… interesting…"

She sighs as she reluctantly takes a seat in the chair by the bed. "Until your memory comes back, yeah, interesting is a good way to put it."

He smirks, attempting to find the humour in their situation. "At least it's just the two of us. I mean, I don't have like 3 kids and a dog I've forgotten too, right?"

She gives a half smile, sighs as she shakes her head. "Nope. Just me."

He licks his lips and gives a small frown. "And here I thought that would make me feel better."

"Sorry," she mumbles, fidgeting in her seat. "How's your head?"

He shrugs, winces. "Well, when I move it I'm pretty sure I can hear my brain sloshing around in there." When her jaw locks and her worry is evident on her face, he smiles. "I'm joking. I've got a decent size headache, and everywhere else aches, but I'm fine."

She nods, moves to get comfortable in her chair. "You're sure?"

He grins. "I am." It makes her smile and when he smiles in return he gets the feeling she's more than just the girl he lives with. It's intriguing, and a little unnerving.

"Oh, I should warn you. Nat might stop by on her way out. She's down the hall having some kind of fit about the possibility of you not remembering her. I told her what kind of timeline you've got, but you know Natalie."

Sam chuckles to himself, his laughter slowing as confusion sets in. "Natalie's here? When did she get back? I've been awake for at least an hour, how has she not been in here yet?"

"Oh, she's been down the hall fussing over-" She stops abruptly, realizing just how much Sam is missing. "There's a few things we're going to need to review, until your memory comes back."

"There he is!" Natalie's voice pierces the air as she rushes to her brother's side, seizing him in a smothering hug. "How are you feeling? You remember anything yet?"

Sam blinks, shoots his sister an unimpressed glare. "Since I woke up not remembering anything an hour ago? No. When did you get back? What are you doing here?"

Natalie scoffs. "Wow they weren't kidding… Well, I've been in Toronto for a little over a year now, and I'm here at the hospital because I got a call that you and Mike were in an accident."

"Mike?" Sam's face contorts in confusion as he turns to Jules for answers.

She smiles, helpfully supplies, "Spike," and watches as the wheels in Sam's head turn.

"How do you know Spike?" he asks his sister, only partially wanting to know the answer.

"Oh wow you really don't remember anything…" When Sam simply stares at her, awaiting an answer, she sighs. "Well, _Spike_ and I are, well, we're kind of… Jules? A little help here?"

Jules shakes her head. "You're on your own Nat, I've got enough to deal with in this."

"Well, you see Sam," Natalie is interrupted by the sounds of an argument from down the hall.

"No I don't need to… come on! Guys this isn't cool!"

Both Jules and Natalie move to the door to see what the kerfuffle is about, both smirking as they see Spike arguing with the rest of his teammates.

Natalie rolls her eyes, turns back to Sam. "I'm so sorry Sammy, but I've got to get going. Call me in the morning and we can talk, ok?"

Sam nods, shrugs. "Ok." He watches as she leaves, before turning back to Jules. "So now that she's gone…she and Spike…they're not… I mean they aren't…"

"A couple?"

Sam pales, gives a small nod as he's unable to say the word.

"They are. And before you go all alpha male big brother on Spike's ass, you do approve of them dating. For the most part."

Sam slowly nods, thinking to himself. "Spike and I, we get along?"

She smiles, finally settling back into her chair by the bed. "Oh yes, you do. I'd say he's probably your best friend."

"Huh… interesting," Sam pauses, nods some more before looking back at Jules. "In that case I'm surprised I didn't go after Natalie for that one. She's kind of reckless."

* * *

Their arrival at the home they share is beyond strange. Sam's quiet the entire drive there, but suddenly pipes up with all kinds of questions at the house. He asks why she has both a jeep and a car, scoffing at his own poor taste when she informs him the car is actually his. She explains how he bought it in an effort to be fuel efficient while still being able to take girls out, and he concedes that that does sound like his thinking. As they make their way into the front hall, Jules is hopeful that the familiar surroundings will jog his memory. Instead, as she turns to face him after hanging her coat in the hall closet, she's met with the sight of a man in awe of his own home.

"We live here?"

She simply nods, following his gaze as he takes in his surroundings.

"Rent?"

"Own."

"Wow." He smiles to himself, craning his neck for a better view around the first floor. "How did we afford this place?"

Jules smirks, tosses her shoes in the closet. "It didn't look like this when we first moved in. You and I took two weeks vacation and did nothing but renovate. This wall wasn't here before. It used to go straight from front door to kitchen but you thought we needed somewhere for your hockey sticks, so we put in a closet. It still needs a lot of work, but it should all be done by-" she pauses, noticing he's stopped staring at the walls and started staring at her. "What?"

"You know how to do all this?"

She grins, nods as she passes him a hanger for his coat. "I read. Plus I renovated my old house mostly on my own, so drywall was a piece of cake once we moved in here."

Sam smiles, finally removing his own jacket. "I'm glad you seem to enjoy this stuff. I can't tell you how much I hate drywalling."

Jules smiles, laughs to herself as she walks down the hall. "Not with me you don't."

He can almost hear the wink at the end of her sentence, and it's enough to persuade him to follow. "I bet," he says quietly, only half hoping she doesn't hear him. When he finds her busy searching through the fridge he simply waits at the entrance to the room.

"I have to be at work for noon for the afternoon shift, but you, Mr Raspberry-swirl head, have the day off. There's lots of stuff in the fridge so don't you dare order pizza. There's more juice in the cupboard by the stairs if you need it. Oh, I guess I should show you around, shouldn't I?"

He nods slowly, looking around. "That might be good. I would have thought I'd know my own house but I've got nothing."

Jules shows him around the house, pointing out the obvious - dining room, living room, washroom, bedroom - before leading him back to the kitchen. She asks, five or six times, if she can get him anything, if the painkillers the doctors gave him for the remaining aches and pains from the blast are working, if he needs another one, where he would like her to leave them so he can get them while she's out. She leads him to the sofa, handing him the remote and a bottled water, insisting that he keep his cell phone nearby in case he needs anything. She reminds him that she's on his speed dial, to which he smirks and tells her he figured as much. She rolls her eyes, leaves him to get settled as she gets ready for work. With her gym bag by the door and her purse slung over her shoulder, she returns to the living room.

"You're sure you're ok?"

He sighs, gives her his most convincing smile. "I'm sure I can manage."

"I'll be home a little after 11, as long as we don't get any calls."

"I know. I do remember what time the shifts run until. I also know what time they start, and you are going to be late."

Jules huffs, glances at the clock on the mantel. "Alright, fine. But if you do need anything-"

"I'll call."

She nods, hesitates before leaving and instead moves to his side, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. Catching the subtle blush that creeps across his cheeks - the one that reminds her he doesn't remember _them_ ever _happening_ - she clears her throat and makes a bee line for the door. She quickly reminds him what time she'll be home, and heads out the door.

Alone with his thoughts, Sam devises a plan to get his memory back. There must be something around the house - pictures, clothing, notes - that will jog his memory. He could try upstairs first. He's sure he caught a glimpse of some pictures on one of the dressers in the bedroom while Jules was giving him the grand tour of the three bedroom home. _Three bedrooms._ He wonders if they had plans for those extra rooms. _Have_ plans - he's not dead, after all. Somehow the morning begins to catch up to him, and he sinks back into the cushions. Maybe he'll have a look around after he checks the highlights. It seems like a good idea since it's been four years since he last checked the rankings - or at least as far as he can recall. Maybe the Leafs are back on top. His doubt is expelled in the form of a snort as he tries to calculate how long it's been since the cup made it's way to Ontario's capital city. It makes his head hurt. Somewhat reluctantly, he takes a pill from the bottle, followed by a large swig of water from the bottle Jules provided. He figures she knows him pretty well considering she easily predicted that he wouldn't want to leave the comfort of the sofa. Either that or she's psychic.

* * *

Jules hurries out of her locker room, having arrived late after getting Sam settled at home. Meeting Ed's gaze she frowns, bows her head slightly in shame. "Sorry I'm late. Had to give Sam the tour of the house."

"It's alright, just don't be late ever again," his words don't match his tone of voice and a smile spreads across his face. "How's he doing?"

She shrugs. "He's alright. He hasn't said anything but I'm pretty sure he's got the mother of all headaches."

"And his memory?"

"As far as I can tell the last thing he remembers is a hostage situation at a bank from four years ago. It's weird." She scrunches her nose, shakes her head.

"It'll come. Honestly, I didn't think we'd be seeing you today. The boss didn't offer you the day off?"

She nods, sighs. "He did, but… Sam can take care of himself. Besides, after last night I could use a break from the tension."

"Oh?"

"Nothing bad, it's just a little awkward. Like last night at the hospital - I couldn't bring myself to leave his room for the night, but at the same time I could tell he wasn't really sure how to respond to me there. I ended up faking sleep halfway through a M-A-S-H rerun so that he wouldn't ask when I was planning on going home."

"That is a little… I can see why you're at work today." He smirks as they fall into step and make their way to the briefing room together. "Hey, Sophie was wondering if you two were still in for saturday, although I'm sure neither of them would mind if you guys decided to sit the night out."

"I haven't mentioned it to Sam since yesterday before shift so I'm guessing he has no idea, but I don't see why we wouldn't go. After three days off I'm sure he'll be dying to get out of the house. Besides, it's the Wordsworth's 15th anniversary party. How can we miss that?"

Ed laughs, rolling his eyes as he nods along. "Soph's making me wear a tie."

Jules snorts. "Well, it's a pretty nice place so that's not surprising, but she does know you don't know how to tie it, right?"

"I do so know how to- That's not even-"

_"Team one: Hot Call!"_

"We'll pick this up later."

"If you need help with the tie I'm sure that's one of the things Sam remembers," Jules responds with a grin, jogging ahead of him towards the gun cage.

* * *

Right on time, Jules arrives home. Swinging the screen door open she curses as the wind catches it and she's forced to let it hit her to avoid the clattering sound it'll make if it hits the doorframe. She's really not sure if Sam is still awake or not, so she takes steps to ensure she doesn't wake him accidentally. As she fiddles with her keys at the door, she can see the light stretching down the hall from the kitchen, although she's fairly certain she left that light on herself that morning. Finally unlocking the door, she quietly enters the house, leaving her shoes and jacket in the closet and her purse by the door.

She finds him half asleep on the sofa, still in the jeans and t-shirt she brought him to wear back from the hospital. "Hey there," she half whispers, unsure of his exact status as his eyes flutter and float from the tv to her. "You spend all day in that spot?"

He sighs, swallows hard and squints as he tries to focus on her. "I think so. I remember something about wanting to look for something to jog my memory, but then I took one of those pain pills the doctor gave me and that pretty well did me in for the day. Seriously, you have no idea how much I ache."

"Yeah, because _I_ don't know pain." She smirks, glances at the half empty water bottle on the coffee table. "Did you eat?"

A nod, then a quick wince as he remembers his head. "Made a sandwich. Hey, what are those round things in the fridge?"

Jules frowns, shakes her head. "You're going to need to be a little more specific."

"Ok maybe not round, more oval. Sort of green and red things…" to add to his explanation he begins gesturing with his hands to show the size and shape of the items in question as he rises from the sofa with a groan and leads her to the kitchen. "These things," he says, pulling one out of the refrigerator.

"Sam, that's a mango."

"Oh," he shrugs, returning it to it's home. "Never tried one."

She shakes her head, closing the refrigerator door after him. "You have, and you like it. I'll make you a smoothie in the morning but for now I'm going to bed, and I suggest you do the same if you want to be back at work next week."

He nods, shakes his head at the thought that there are whole fruits he doesn't remember trying. It opens a new realm of things he may have forgotten. He follows her to the bedroom they share, looking around once again as she enters the washroom, closing - but not locking - the door behind her. He hears the water running as she completes what he assumes is her regular evening routine, and turns his attention to a chair in the corner. Draped over the back of it is a pair of track pants, ones that look like the kind he would usually sleep in. With a shrug he picks them up, tugging them on as quickly as he can without disrupting one of his many bruises. Tugging the drawstring, he notices one of his t-shirts on the chair and decides to change into that too.

Jules emerges from the washroom to find Sam, slowly pulling on his t-shirt. "What are you doing?"

Sam pauses, looks at her with wide eyes. "Getting changed for bed…" He looks down to double check the logo on the shirt. "Is this not mine?"

Jules shakes her head, moves to the dresser and opens the second drawer. "No, it's yours. You just uh, don't usually wear that one."

"Oh," he shrugs, finishes pulling on the shirt. "First time for everything I suppose."

"Mmhmm," she nods her agreement as she digs for a tank top to go with the shorts she's picked out for bed.

Afraid he might have forgotten something else, Sam quickly looks for clues as to which side of the bed is his. It's easily determined, thank goodness, and he settles himself on the side near what he immediately recognizes to be his clock-radio. He watches as she sets out her pyjamas on the dresser, immediately feeling awkward as she starts to change in front of him. He knows they live together, that it's not likely the first time it's happened, and it's not that it's a bad view. Its just that all his memory is willing to offer is a new friendship he'd weaselled out of her after she'd told him there was no way she'd ever date a teammate. Last he remembers, they hadn't even kissed and yet there he is, watching her undress in _their_ bedroom. He swallows hard, pries his eyes away and towards his nightstand where he plugs in his cell phone. He settles back down on his pillow, dragging the blankets up as he finds a renewed interest in the textured ceiling.

Without thinking, she's changed into the shorts, her shirt and bra quickly finding their way to the hamper by the door. Pulling the tank over her head she catches a glimpse of him in the mirror over the dresser and it hits her that he has no idea how to respond to what's happening. Smirking ever so slightly, she decides to make it easy on him and hurries up. Fixing the hem of her shirt she slips into bed beside him.

"Goodnight," he tells her quickly, turning off the lamp beside him. He's relieved when she quickly follows his lead and in the dark he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling. _Wow_, he mouths into the darkness, wondering what'll happen if his memory doesn't return soon.

Jules settles in, her back to Sam. As she shuffles the covers to get comfortable she silently curses the tank top. If she had only had the good sense yesterday morning to move their discarded clothes from the chair to a more appropriate place, then maybe, just maybe, she'd be sleeping in her usual borrowed t-shirt, and not this stupid tank top.

* * *

_**Next Chapter: (tentatively) Frustrasam - Samnesia is frustrating, and not just for Sam. **_


	3. Frustrasam

**A/N: Ok, So here's possibly the longest chapter I've ever written. 4000+ words. Yeah. It's kind of a beast for me. I don't think you guys will 'enjoy' this chapter so much... its a little... I want to say angsty but I don't know if that's the right word for it. Still, I love reviews and no amount of tomatoes or hurt feelings will change that. LOL**

**Also, fair warning, I drop 1 F bomb this chapter. Only 1 though, and it's necessary, for emphasis. **

* * *

Jules wakes up as she has a thousand times before: with Sam's arm around her waist, his body pressed up against her back as he snores bursts of hot air into her hair. With a smile, she admires how quickly his condition improved, how quickly he returned to his usual habits. For a moment, she admires the way his hand effortlessly dangles, fingers twitching slightly as if he's dreaming about a piano lesson she never knew he took. Her smile grows larger as she mentally scolds herself for putting her mind through so many scenarios in which his memory never returned: the break up because she just couldn't reboot them for a second time, or because he simply couldn't fall in love with her again. Laughing out loud, she rolls over in their bed. And that's when she actually wakes up. Alone.

Frowning, she sits up to scan the room. No sign of him. Checking the clock she finds she's beat her alarm by nearly twenty minutes, and the sun by what she's willing to guess amounts to nearly an hour. Shutting off the alarm, she pads barefoot to the closet to grab her robe. A quick look around the second floor does nothing to settle the question of where Sam is, so she starts down the stairs. Entering the kitchen, she finds him standing over the stove, stirring the contents of a frying pan.

"You're up early."

He nods, doesn't turn from his place at the frying pan. "I was hungry, so I made myself some eggs."

"Oh," she nods, moves to scan the fridge in search of her own breakfast.

"I wasn't sure if you liked eggs, but I made enough for two anyway." When she doesn't respond right away he shrugs, helping his portion onto a plate near the stove. "But, if you're not interested I'm sure I can eat them."

She grins, laughs from across the room. "Scrambled?"

He smiles, thinks for a moment. "Do I know how to make them any other way?"

"No, but it doesn't stop you from experimenting. Pass me a plate."

Helping herself to a mouthful she smiles, glad that he at least retained what culinary skills he had before. She watches his expression and imagines him mentally debating which seat at the table is his before opting to put him out of his misery. "The one closest to the window."

He nods, smirks to himself as he sits down.

"I'm making a smoothie. Did you want to try one?"

"I haven't already?" When he's greeted with a glare he smirks. "Sure."

Having perfected the recipe years before, Jules quickly swirls the necessary ingredients in the blender. Garnishing Sam's with an extra chunk of mango for his own tasting purposes, she sets them on the table along with her plate. She watches intently as Sam examines the glass in front of him, before picking up the chunk of foreign fruit. With a smile and a shrug he eats the entire piece, nodding his head. "That's delicious!" he grins, taking a large swig of smoothie. "Mmm, oh my god that's good. How have I never tried mango before?"

She shrugs, resists the urge to correct him on his use of the word never. "I blame your mother. She had never tried them either until you brought her some last time we visited."

He nods, smirks as he downs another gulp. "Mom likes the classics: apples, bananas, oranges."

With a laugh she nods along, his mother having used that same explanation when they'd introduced her to the fruit. "So um, don't think that I'm pressuring you or anything but do you… remember anything? Anything at all?"

Sam frowns, shakes his head. "Nothing. You have no idea how long it took me just to find the plates this morning."

"Well, it's only been a couple days. I'm sure it'll be back soon." With that she's up, moving her dishes to the dishwasher before heading upstairs to get ready for work.

Sam follows her lead on the dishes, making sure he hasn't missed a single drop of the delicious drink she's served to him. With the kitchen cleaned, he waits in the living room.

When she returns, she gives a quick laugh at the sight of Sam back in front of the tv. "Look, I know you're off work and all, but please don't spend the entire day in front of the tv again."

He sighs as he turns to look at her, smirking at his own mock annoyance. "I'll call Nat once it's actually daytime, see if I can score a lunch out of her or something. She must have a job here by now, right?"

Jules smirks back, rolling her eyes. "She may have a job but unless lunch comes with a new pair of shoes I wouldn't count on her buying."

He nods, thinks for a moment. "How is it that the team got roped into a day shift immediately following an afternoon shift? Before, well, back when I can remember we usually had a day off in between that kind of shift change."

She nods. "It's true, but we switched with team 3 for tomorrow off. It's Wordy's anniversary party tomorrow night and none of us wanted to risk a call keeping us late."

Sam smiles. "Least of all Wordy, I'd assume."

Jules pauses mid movement, realizing just how much of a refresher course Sam is going to need before the party. "Actually, Wordy is over at guns and gangs now." When Sam's only response is a look of shock she sighs, shaking her head. "I have so much to fill you in on, and I've really got to get going. Can we talk tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah of course."

* * *

"Nat, I'm telling you, I don't remember a damn thing from the past four years.."

From her position across the table Natalie narrows her eyes, studies him. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

He shakes his head, takes a sip of his drink. "Nothing. One minute, I'm seconding the boss in the truck while Lew's planning to break into a bank from the basement, and next thing I know I'm in a hospital bed, four years have passed, and I've got Jules telling me we live together. Everything in between, is blank."

Natalie watches him, searches for any indication that he's being untruthful. "Ok, I don't get like half of what you just said, but I get your point. You're sure you're not just telling me this so that I'll buy lunch?"

He smiles, sighs. "Well, I might be. Frankly I have doubts that I even know my own pin number anymore, so I'm not really looking forward to trying to use my debit card."

She laughs, reluctantly agrees that lunch is on her. After giving their orders to the server, she turns back to her brother. "So what's that like? Not remembering."

With a frown he shakes his head. "Not great. I live with a girl who I barely know, it's awkward as hell. I can't even find a plate without checking every cupboard in my own damn kitchen first."

Natalie rolls her eyes. "How is that awkward? Haven't you wanted Jules since like, your first day back in Toronto?"

He blows out a breath, shaking his head. "The last time I remember spending any time with her we were drinking coffee in the back of her jeep after work. Going from that, to living together? Not exactly the natural progression of things, Nat."

She shrugs. "I suppose."

His eyebrows quickly rise in emphasis of his previous point. "I have a question."

"Shoot," she tells him, taking a sip of her water.

"This Jules, you know her, right?"

"Well, she's your girlfriend, so yeah, we've met."

He quickly decides to blow past the attitude lining her answer. "So if I screw this up while I can't remember anything from the past few years, think I'll be super pissed at myself when I do remember?"

Natalie smirks. "You'd be pissed. But you aren't going to screw it up, Sam."

"And you know this how?"

"Well, you love her, for one thing. And I don't think love is based purely in memory, so even if you don't remember falling in love with her, you do still love her."

His lip curls in disgust at his little sister giving him relationship advice as he rolls his eyes. "That's helpful Natalie, you should write greeting cards, you know that?"

She glares at him, shaking her head. "Sam, just be yourself and you'll be fine."

He shakes his head, can't believe she's who he turned to for this conversation. Natalie's never had a lasting relationship in her life.

* * *

Jules returns home to find Sam already on the hunt for something to make for dinner. They exchange small talk as he searches the pantry and she examines the contents of the fridge.

"We've got burgers. Want to do burgers?"

"I saw those while you were working. We don't have any buns."

"Excellent," she groans, resumes her search.

"My Mom called today."

She smirks to herself, doesn't turn her attention away from the fridge. "Oh? How'd that go?"

"A little weird, but at least I remember her." She doesn't respond, and he simply shakes his head at his own choice of words. "Anyways, she was demanding we come visit her regardless of 'where my head is at'. I saw on the calendar that we have a weekend off in a few weeks and I figured my memory might even be back by then so I told her we'd drive out for a couple days."

She stops, nearly drops the jar of pickles she had picked up to look behind. "You told her what?"

"That we'd… do you two not get along?"

"No… No we get along fine, it's not that."

"So what's the big deal? I haven't seen the woman in forever."

"You saw her two weeks ago, but that's not… never mind. It's fine. We can leave that Saturday morning, or even Friday night if she doesn't mind us getting there late." She shakes her head, moves away from the fridge.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

Sam frowns, shakes his head. "You say it's fine but really, you don't seem fine with that."

She sighs, turns to face him. "We had plans for that night. It's um, that's actually our anniversary."

"Oh. Really? Are you sure?"

"No, Sam, I'm imagining it."

He huffs, can't believe the tone she's taking with him. "Look, I'll cancel. I didn't realize it was… I can cancel. Don't worry about it."

"No. It's fine, we can go. We didn't really have anything big planned anyway."

"I'll cancel. Jules, I can tell you're mad."

"No."

"Jules, I know you're mad. It's ok if you're mad that I forgot."

She sighs, runs a hand through her bangs. "No, Sam, I'm not. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at… at the situation, because frankly Sam, this situation sucks."

"Obviously. I've spent the last 2 days wandering around trying to recognize my own life. You have no idea how hard its been, how weird it's been to have everything all changed around like this."

"I have no idea? Sam, my boyfriend doesn't remember our life together. I get to live with someone who doesn't remember moving in together. We sleep in the same bed, and yet you have no idea how to respond when I get dressed in front of you. Sam, I need to start getting changed in the washroom because I now feel the need to hide myself from you so that neither of us feels awkward, so don't you dare tell me that I don't know how hard this has been."

He rolls his eyes, walks in the other direction. "Right, sorry, your life has been turned upside down and you're the one who has been lost in your own life."

She stops where she is, having previously planned on following him to continue their exchange. "Wow. Just… when that ice cream hit your head did your personality fall out?" Shaking her head, she heads towards the door, pulling her jacket back on. "I'm going to go out for a while. Just… find yourself something to eat." With that she's gone, screen door slamming as she exits.

* * *

_4-2-3-1_

Ed's orders from her last re-qualification ring in her head as she shreds bullet after bullet in the name of easing tension.

2-1-3-4

She continues her assault on the markers, each disappearing at a record breaking rate in her frustration. She's not sure what the goal is here, how long she'll keep firing for. Her mind replays the fallout as her heart aches in the realization of just how quickly she and Sam fell apart. Somehow, Sam losing recollection of nearly their entire relationship past that first _hello_ and the two days that followed the accident were enough to bring them to a fallout, or at least a need for silence from each other. She wonders how things might have been different had he only forgotten a couple months, or if he'd forgotten her altogether. She wonders if having absolutely nothing to go on for who she is would make it easier or harder on him. Out of ammunition, she sighs. Turning to reload her weapon, she's stopped by a familiar hand on her shoulder.

"Wordy? Hey… what are you doing here?"

He shrugs, adjusting the ear protection that dangles around his neck. "Figured I'd get some practice in. I'm of course not required to practice as much as I used to, and I had gone right back down to the bare minimum but Shelley started kicking me out of the house a few nights each week."

Jules smiles, nods. "She probably doesn't need another child running around."

He smirks, nods along. "Oh yeah that's totally it. So what brings you here?"

"Oh, you know… just some practice."

"Oh? Don't you and Sam usually do that together?"

"Yeah but…um… well he's not really shooting anything this week since he's still one big bruise from that call I'm sure you've heard about."

He nods slowly, tilting his head. "And that's it? That's the only reason you're here alone."

"It is." She nods, but can't quite meet his gaze.

With his usual fatherly glare he nods along with her. "Yeah… I'm not buying it."

"Excuse me?"

"Jules, I have Parkinson's, but you're the one who's hands are shaking. What's going on?"

She frowns, looking at her quivering hands. She supposes that's where the quivering in her lip moved to once she stopped firing.

"Timmies?"

Her head shoots up to face him, finally tearing her attention away from her hands. "Huh?"

"You know, coffee shop. Brown cups, oval logo, donuts, beverages… want to go?"

She pauses a moment, considering the invitation. She hadn't planned too far in advance when she'd stormed out without dinner, although she can't quite stomach the idea of walking back into the house just yet. She reasons that if she joins him she could at least pick up a sandwich while they're there and she won't starve until she goes home. She sighs. "Sure."

They settle into a booth near the window, she with her ham and cheese, he with his boston creme and a box of timbits to bring home.

"Spill."

She simply shakes her head. "He doesn't remember anything from the past four years."

"Yeah, that's what Ed said."

"Up until this morning he thought you were still on the team. Anyways, the doctors say his memory should be back, it'll just take 'time', however long that means."

"That's kind of how that amnesia thing works isn't it. Jules, I know you're not blowing holes in targets just because of that."

She groans, shakes her head at him. "You know, boss really didn't make use of your profiling skills while he had you."

He gives a light chuckle, shaking his head. "Or maybe you're just that transparent. Spill it, Callaghan."

With a sigh she takes another sip of her coffee, realizing that there's no use in avoiding it. "It's just… I don't know. If you didn't remember anything about your life would you just walk around making plans without asking first? I mean, how hard is it to say 'hey Jules, anything I should know but can't remember?' And it's not like I can be mad at him, it's not his fault some kid thought it was a good idea to blow up a damn ice cream parlour and leave him clueless, but what am I supposed to do with that? Can't talk to Sam, he's got enough on his plate. Do you know he couldn't find the plates this morning? It's _that_ bad."

Wordy stares at her, eyes wide as his hand absently replaces his donut on his plate. "Wow. That was a lot of… really vague, non-information. Care to elaborate?"

She sighs, sinks back into her chair. "Its just hard. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, Wordy," she pauses, gives a small smile as she tries to form a joke. "I live with rookie Sam. Do you remember rookie Sam?"

He nods, smiles at the flustered woman before him. "Yeah, I remember rookie Sam. Jules, there's no how-to guide on this kind of thing. What you're _supposed_ to do, is be there for him."

She scoffs. "Now who's being vague?"

He shakes his head, gives her a sympathetic smile. "I know, helpful, but all you can do is be there, because you love him and whether he knows it or not he loves you, and he'll need you for as long as he can't remember what he had for lunch last week. You make sure he's alright, you do what you can to help him remember, and when that gets too much you walk away like a sane human being and come talk to me. Or Sarge. Or Raf. Or Ed. Or maybe even Spike, if what you're looking for is a line out of Justice League or whatever."

"Or whatever?"

He grins, shrugs. "I have daughters, Jules. We don't really do the comic thing in my house."

She smiles, nods. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Sorry I implied you were acting like a crazy person," he offers, giving her a sheepish grin.

"Nah, it's ok. I did go off the rails a little bit there."

"So will you two still be joining us tomorrow night?"

"Yeah… yeah I'll make sure we're there. I'm sorry I dumped this all on you the night before your big night. I'm sure you've got enough going on."

He smiles, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. I had to stay out of the house anyway - Shelley's friend is coming over for something to do with dresses so I was kicked out for the night."

* * *

"Way to screw it up, Sam," he groans, slamming a cupboard door. His frustration comes out closer to rage, smashing a jar of tomato sauce in the process. "Dammit!" He moves quickly to clean up the mess, or as quickly as he can without knowing exactly where the paper towels are kept. Soon enough, the floor is cleaned and Sam turns his attention to his now stained sweats. With another groan, he makes his way upstairs, careful not to get any sauce on the carpet. He can't imagine that would go over very well, especially given the miserable night he and Jules are already having. He quickly sheds his pants, careful to keep the sauce side away from the bedspread as he sets them down. Staring at the dresser, he wonders which drawers are his. By what he's sure was pure blind luck, he's managed the past two days by only opening one drawer, which happened to be his own socks and boxers. The rest of his wardrobe has been coming from the closet. Sadly, even in this future style life he's now living, he doesn't keep track pants in the closet.

Nervously clenching his eyes shut, he takes a chance on the drawer below the socks. _T-shirts_. Well, not what he was afraid of, but also not what he's looking for. With a deep, steeling breath, he moves to the next drawer over. In one smooth motion, he opens it. "Oh god." He stares, perhaps a little too long, in shock before slamming the drawer shut. How is he ever going to tell Jules he's seen her… _unmentionables_? He rolls his eyes at his own thoughts, realizing that he's likely seen those before, and not in the drawer. Still, he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong by looking in her drawer. With another deep breath, he takes his chances with another drawer. "Thank you!" he exclaims, unusually happy at the sight of his own pyjama pants. It's a little early for sleeping, but they'll suit to end his search of the dresser. With glee, he grabs at a pair of plaid pants, hurriedly pulling them from the pile. He's a little surprised that after his years of military training on how to fold clothing he would keep a drawer in such disarray. While being rushed out of the drawer, the pants catch on the drawstring of another pair, successfully pulling them out along with a few other items from within the drawer.

"Oh god." This time, it's not the clothing he finds that makes him say it. This time, it's the box that tumbles out of the drawer and finds a resting place at his feet. "Oh no. No no no." He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he prays desperately for it not to be what he thinks it is. With a slight squeak of fear he turns his attention to the box. "Fuck." Panic sets in. _Maybe I've had it for a while and don't intend of using it…_ he wonders, digging through the drawer for more answers. Finding a receipt at the bottom of the drawer, his worst fears are confirmed. It's a recent purchase. There are more receipts. Turns out they, or at least he, did have plans for that weekend off of theirs. With another groan of frustration, he mentally chides himself for going off on her earlier, can't believe how selfish he acted. He nearly blames Natalie and her _just be yourself_ crap, until he realizes that in the past four years he might have actually changed. He shakes his head, ashamed of himself. He was right: she's definitely more than just the girl who he lives with. Hell, from the looks of things, before his memory was knocked out of him he damn well wanted to marry her. He's already pissed that he's messed things up with Jules, he can only imagine what kind of self anger is going to come out once he remembers just what she means to him.

He doesn't have long to imagine it though, as he hears the door closing downstairs.

"Sam?"

He can't do it. Can't face her knowing what he's destroyed, even if he can't quite remember the _them_ that he's destroyed. As silently as possible, he shoves the box and receipts back in the drawer, slipping into the nearest pair of pants at lightning speed. Tossing the sauce covered pants in the hamper, he turns out the light and crawls into bed, hoping she won't question why he's already asleep.

She appears at the doorway, sighs as she sees he's already asleep. Part of her is grateful: it means she doesn't have to talk to him tonight, even if it means she'll be playing out conversations in her mind all night. As a yawn overtakes her, she shrugs as she decides to follow his lead and call it an early night. After changing in silence, she slips into bed beside him, careful not to disturb. Rolling onto her side she studies the wall in front of her as she tries to sort out the next day in her head. Aside from recovering from tonight, she's got a lot to talk to him about. She still has to explain Wordy, and his move to guns and gangs, but that's the least of her worries. Somewhere during her conversation with Wordy the biggest changes of the last four years resurfaced in her brain. She should probably tell him Ed now has a second child, and review with him the names of Wordy's three daughters. She'll need to take a crack at the Natalie and Spike situation, though she's not sure she wants to deal with Sam's feelings about the two of them living together for a second time. While there are many details weighing on her mind, none affect her as heavily as the question she knows will come at some point the next day: What about Lew?


	4. Sampathy

**A/N: Well now, here's another long chapter, after a long wait. No long A/N this time though, just a thank you to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/following/favouriting :)**

* * *

The first thing he notices is the smell - the sweet scent of her shampoo as it wafts it's way into his nose. The next thing he notices is the feel - the feel of her beneath his arm, her chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. It all feels so familiar, and he silently prays that what meets his eyes will be just as familiar. He's sorely disappointed when all that meets his eyes is a familiar girl in the room he only knows to be his own because she told him so.

Groaning to himself, he retracts his arm from its position around her and rolls away. He can tell by the slight glow in the room that the sun is up, and decides that's all the indication of the time he needs. Still stiff from his injuries, he drags himself out of bed. He makes a quick stop at the washroom, frowning as he catches sight of the twin bruises on the sides of his head that have graduated to a lovely shade of purple. Passing back through the bedroom, he sneaks a quick look at Jules. It seems the past couple days have finally caught up with her, as she remains sprawled across her side of the bed showing no signs of waking any time soon. He contemplates turning off her alarm so that she can sleep as late as she likes but quickly vetoes the idea - after last night's argument he's not looking to upset her by doing anything he shouldn't.

Wandering into the kitchen he marvels at the fact that he's just slept close to a full 10 hours, and wonders when the last time he did that was. Sure, he'd laid awake for what felt like hours replaying and reviewing the night's events in his mind, but soon enough he gave in to sleep in hopes that the morning would bring a fresh start, and maybe a memory or two. He figures it's looking like the fresh start option is his best shot, although he is intrigued by the sleep habits he seems to have recovered. Though he doesn't know why, and sure as hell didn't do it intentionally, he estimates he spent most of the night with an arm wrapped around Jules. Right now it's the only thing he's willing to accept as proof that his memory might someday return.

She joins him about an hour later, helping herself to some of the coffee he had made before sitting down across the table from him.

He greets her with a nervous smile, quickly returning to the newspaper in front of him. In the interest of keeping things civil, he looks back up at her, indicating the paper. "Is there a section you'd prefer?"

Setting her coffee cup down she thinks for a moment before nodding. "Travel, please."

He cocks an eyebrow, but passes her the section as promised. "Travel?"

She nods, briefly meeting his gaze. "What? Just because I don't have time for it doesn't mean I don't like to read about the places I could go. A girl can dream, can't she?"

He nods to himself, figures she's right and goes back to the sports section. He sneaks quick glimpses of her as she focuses on the articles in front of her. Finally, having worked up just barely enough courage, he clears his throat.  
"Listen, about last night..."

She shakes her head, sighing as she lowers her own portion of the paper. "I really don't want to talk about that today, Sam. As it is, I've got 4 years worth of stuff to talk to you about and I have no idea how I'm going to get through it all before dinner. So, if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate it if we could put that on hold, just until tomorrow."

"Ok." He's not about to argue with her. For one thing, he's sure the fact that she's not still raving mad at him after last night is no small victory. For another, she's really the only link to the past four years he has, so to argue with her point would be the equivalent of biting the hand that feeds at this point. "Where should we start?"

"Well, I'm going to start with breakfast. Were you ok finding something to eat today?" she asks, rising from the table.

"Actually I had no trouble finding anything today, but I haven't eaten. I wasn't really feeling like eggs again today and as far as I can remember that's really the only thing I know how to cook," he says with a smile as he follows her to the pantry.

She nods, takes a quick inventory of the shelves in front of her. "Works for me, I was really in more of a waffle mood anyway."

He grins, watches as she collects the necessary ingredients before pulling out the waffle iron he'd stumbled across yesterday while looking for a frying pan. He was sure they only had that as one of those things you buy but never use, or thought that perhaps they'd received it as a gift. "You know how to make waffles?"

* * *

He waits until they're both about half finished their breakfast-turned-late brunch before returning to the task of learning the basics of the team. "So, I was thinking we should start with the guests of honour. You said Wordy is with guns and gangs now? What's up with that?"

She smiles, gives a small sigh as she realizes there's no more avoiding the topic. "He was with the SRU up until a little over a year ago, right around the time Natalie showed up but that's really just a coincidence. A few things popped up during our annual re-qualifications, and he was diagnosed with Parkinsons's." She pauses, watches as his face fills with shock, and then maybe horror.

"Parkin- oh my god." He frowns, shakes his head. "That's... He has young kids, does he not?"

She nods. "Three little girls. He's doing well, has got it under control with the medication he's taking. Still, shortly after his diagnosis he moved to guns and gangs. He was worried about how it might affect his performance in the field, so he bowed out, so to speak."

Sam shakes his head, continues to frown. "But if he's got it under control why would he have to leave?"

She gives a small smile, nods. "That's what I thought, but he was pretty set on leaving so there was nothing we could say. Besides, I think he might be better off. From the sounds of things he's finally got a set schedule, with way less overtime. I'm guessing that's a hit with Shelley and the girls."

He nods his appreciation of this. "Shelley...his wife?"

"Sure is. She's a sweetheart. You love her cookies. I'm pretty sure those are the one of the main reasons you willingly come with me to babysit the girls." She grins, clears the table, before moving the conversation to the living room sofa. "That brings me to the next thing you'll need to know. Wordy has three daughters: Lily, Sara, and Allie. Lily shouldn't be too hard to recognize: she's the tallest, 8 years old, and looks just like her dad. Plus, she loves ladybugs, so she's always got one on a necklace or bracelet so that'll be a dead giveaway right there. Sara is 6, and looks just like Shelley; the only blonde in the bunch. Not quite as tall as Lily, but a lot more talkative." When he smirks she shakes her head. "You laugh now, just wait until she hears you lost your memory. She'll never stop talking."

He grins, nods as he makes a mental note that if things get too awkward with the adults he can at least have a lively discussion with a six year old. "What about Allie?"

Jules grins, shakes her head as she sits back against the arm of the sofa to face him. "Allie has you whipped."

"Excuse me?"

"She's three and a half, yes, you do need to know the 'and a half', and you're easily her favourite SRU uncle. She tells you so every time we see her, and I'm pretty sure that's why you can't bring yourself to be anything but a sap when she's around."

"Ok, now I know you're lying. I'm not a sap."

She snorts, shakes her head. "You're totally a sap. Whenever we babysit I have to play bad guy and tell her when it's bedtime because you can't handle the disappointment on her face when you say it's time to stop playing dolls."

He shakes his head, shrugs, and speaks up in his own defence. "Who can say no to a 3 and a half year old?"

Jules smiles, not the least bit annoyed by the fact that Sam can be so whipped by a small child. "I think that about covers the Wordsworths. Who next?"

"How about we start at the top? The boss."

She nods, takes a sip of her coffee. "The boss... wooo I'm not sure where to begin with him." She pauses a moment to think, before launching into it. They talk for hours, successfully missing the greater portion of the day. She tells him about the return of Dean to the boss' life, thankful that Sam does appear to remember hearing about how they were estranged so she doesn't have to list off their entire history. She tells him about Marina, and about the changes in their sergeant's behaviour since meeting her.

Next she covers Ed, including a quick review of who Sophie is and their son Clark. She tells Sam about Izzy, the newest Lane, and, because Sam feels the need to ask her whether or not he and Ed get along, she briefly covers Ed's shooting and how it lead to Sam's role as co-team leader. She easily laughs at the shock on his face, recalling the cocky rookie who'd walked into their lives way back when.

She reminds him of Spike, lays out the most recent changes in his life - his father's passing, his mother's move to Italy, and his move in with Natalie. She reminds Sam that he does in fact approve of Spike, and warns that he'll have to tolerate them as they share a table later that night. Sam smiles as she tells him about Natalie's newfound career path, and fights off the urge to call her in a moment of brotherly pride.

Jules gives a quick intro to Raf with the help of a photo from their most recent team picnic, explaining that he took Wordy's spot and has fit in pretty well, for a rookie.

"So yeah, I'd say that about covers it. At least what you'll need to know for tonight. We should start getting ready,"she tells him, moving from her spot on the sofa to return her coffee mug to the kitchen.

He follows her out of the room, his expression quickly turning to confusion. "Wait, Jules," he calls after her as she ascends the stairs, his own coffee mug all but bouncing off the bottom of the sink as he tries to catch up. "Jules? What about Lew?"

When she stops at the top of the stairs, just outside of their bedroom and turns to face him, he can't help the feeling of dread that rises in his stomach at the mention of the name. He's not sure why, but somehow he already wishes he could retract the question.

"He won't be there," she says softly, waiting a moment before continuing into the bedroom.

"Why?" He's not sure why he keeps asking these questions - his stomach's reaction, along with the expression on Jules' face, should have been enough warning to drop the subject.

In her position in front of the closet where she's begun digging out his suit, she stops, sighs to herself but doesn't turn to face him. "I can't talk about that right now, Sam. When we get home after dinner, I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know, but for now, can we please, please just not talk about why?"  
He's more curious than ever, yet her pleading halts his questions. Instead, he accepts the suit she hands him, along with the white dress-shirt that follows. Without hesitation - because he's come to the conclusion that she's already seen everything there is to see - he drops his pyjama pants in exchange for the pants to his suit. Jules follows, piling her own clothes for the evening on the bed. Between buttons on his shirt he sneaks a peek as she loses her shirt and puts on her dress.

"Um, do you mind?"

He jolts, blushes as he stammers to respond. "Oh, I'm sorry I-"

"The zipper, Sam. Could you give me a hand?"

"Right." He helps her with the back of her dress, consciously making an effort not to stare, before going back to his suit. "Am I supposed to wear a tie to this thing?"

She nods, tosses him one from the closet.

"Purple?"

"To match my dress." She smiles, then adds, "you picked it out, not me."

He smiles to himself, and expertly ties the light purple tie.

* * *

Walking from the car to the restaurant, they meet up with Ed and Sophie. They make polite small talk as Ed whines about his suit and Sophie asks Sam how he's been feeling.

"A lot better, thanks Barbara." When Sophie pales, he grins, tells her he's only joking and that he does in fact remember her. Jules rolls her eyes, but laughs, grateful that Sam doesn't seem to be as nervous as she thought he might be about the dinner.

Entering the occasion room at the back of the restaurant, the four marvel at the crowd already mingling in the room.

Ed raises a brow. "Who knew the Wordsworths had so many friends?"

"Hey guys!" Wordy greets with a grin, joining them at entry way. Shelley follows behind him, offering quick hugs in greeting.

"We were just commenting on the crowd," Jules informs him. "Guessing they're all your friends?" she asks Shelley.

"Nah," she shakes her head, smiling. "Those two are friends of Kevin," she tells them, indicating a table where Spike and Natalie are watching them, waving obnoxiously.

"Don't pin those two on me," Wordy grins, wrapping an arm around his wife. "We should get back to the mingling thing. Make yourselves comfortable."

Never the type to argue with the guests of honour, Sam and Jules make their way to their assigned table – a small table for four near the dance floor, where Spike and Natalie await them.

Midway across the room though, they're ambushed. One tiny, frilly, pink tornado cuts them off.

"Hi Sam! Hi Jules!" The littlest Wordsworth grins, waving frantically.

"Hi Allie! Wow, that's a pretty dress," Jules replies.

"Thank you, Mommy made it." She smiles, and adds a twirl on the spot to show off the dress. Looking at Sam, Allie takes on a thoughtful expression. "Daddy say you hurted yourself."

"He's right," Sam nods. When she frowns in response he feels the need to elaborate. "But only a little. See?" he asks, ducking to her level and turning his head so she can see the bruises on his face.

"Oo purple! Pretty!"

Jules can't help but giggle, and covers her face in an effort to hide her smile. "I'm just going to go say hi to Spike, will you two be ok here?"

Sam manages a quick nod before Allie starts talking again, instantly taking him by the hand to show him where she's sitting for dinner, so that he can visit, of course.

* * *

After dinner, he wanders out to the restaurant's patio, nodding his greeting to her when he finds her sitting on a bench.

She gives a half smile, watches as he contemplates where to sit. When he sits awkwardly at the opposite end of the bench, she gives a near imperceptible nod, noting that he clearly hasn't remembered anything yet. "How are you doing?"

He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair as he looks at her sheepishly. "Had to get out of there. Too many people who hope that if I talk to them they'll be the one to jog my memory and suddenly all will be right in the world."

With another small smile she nods her understanding, taking another sip from her water bottle before returning her attention to the torn and tattered label.

He watches as she picks away the last of the nutrition chart, studying her facial expressions. He finds no sign of frustration, for which he is grateful. It's hard enough not remembering a woman you allegedly love, he can't imagine what it would be like if she weren't so damn supportive. Unfortunately, in the absence of her frustration he manages to pick up on grief, sadness. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat he summons the words to make the effort. If he loves this girl, and he gets the feeling he does, this shouldn't be all one-way between them. "How are you doing?"

The question catches her off-guard, her water bottle plummeting to the patio stones below. With a shake of her head she moves to retrieve the bottle. He reacts just as fast, reaching over in hopes of getting the bottle for her. Their hands tie the race, fingers brushing against each other as he relinquishes the bottle to her grasp.

"Thanks," she swallows, dusts off some of the dirt collected by the sweating bottle. Clearing her throat she returns to his question. "Did you just ask how _I_ was doing?"

He nods, not bothering to meet her eyes as he searches the skyline for something, maybe answers. "I did."

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm not the one who almost got blown up."

He nods, smiles at the comment because he figures it's the type of thing that might annoy him if she constantly deflected questions about her own well-being. "I know, it's just… it didn't occur to me until last night what this means for you. It can't be easy living with some guy whose only real memories of you involve loading a rifle into an SUV or a failed pick up line. Did I seriously try to pick you up at a retirement party?"

Jules gives a half-hearted smirk. "Sure did."

He shakes his head in shame. "Well, I sure hope I improved in the romance department."

"You do alright."

"Good. Anyway, it just hit me last night after you left that you've been so good about looking after me, and I don't have a clue who has been looking after you."

She nods slowly, considering what he's said. "Well… thank you for… asking, I guess." She pauses, considers changing the subject. She can't be sure if he's only asking to be polite, or if he actually wants an answer. Sure, she appreciates what he's saying, appreciates the effort he's putting forth, but the questions won't leave her. Would it matter if she answered? What would he even say if she told him? If he doesn't remember 99% of their relationship, is he really even _her_ Sam? "Its pretty lonely."

She doesn't need to look at him to know he's as surprised as she is that she answered the question. He wants to shrink in on himself, hide in some kind of corner so he doesn't have to watch as she blows out a breath and rearranges her bangs on her forehead. With another deep breath he thinks he catches her swat away a threatening tear. He produces a guilt ridden sigh and casts his eyes downward. "I'm so sorry Jules…"  
She shrugs, rises from the bench, straightening the hem of her dress. "Nothing to be sorry for, Sam. None of this is your fault. Listen, I'm going back inside. They should be doing cake soon and I've got to make sure a certain someone's hair stays free of icing. You coming?"

"I'll be in in a few." He watches as she nods and makes her way back inside. With a groan, he tosses his head back to catch a quick view of the stars before closing his eyes in thought. He can remember his parents, his sister, his police academy graduation. He can remember the first time he left for Afghanistan, the first time he came home, and his graduation parade at the end of basic training. Like any good soldier he's got his social insurance number memorized, along with his badge number, and for some reason the email password he clearly only created after he and Jules got together. Hell, he can even remember his first ever date – with Becka Lynn Brennan, in 8th grade – but he still can't remember the girl he bought _the_ ring for.

* * *

"Now that the party is over, can we talk about yesterday?"

From the driver's seat Jules sighs, shrugs in reply. "I'm sorry I went off at you."

Sam adds a shrug of his own, looking at her from his position in the passenger's seat. "You don't need to apologize for that. Like I said earlier, I got so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't even think about how this must be affecting you, and I'm sorry for that."

She nods, but doesn't turn to look at him.

He waits, hoping for more of a response, sighing when he doesn't get one. "I'd like to make you a deal."

One eyebrow rises and she grants him the questioning look he's been seeking. "What kind of deal?"

Sam smiles, sits up a little straighter with the excitement behind his idea. "I'll work on the selfish Sam thing, but you have to promise to tell me when I'm failing at that, and you have to tell me when things are getting to you."

"I think I can do that," she nearly whispers.

"There's more," he grins, nods when she shoots him another questioning look. "We date."

"Excuse me?" she laughs, shaking her head at the idea.

"You heard me. We date, and you tell me all about our relationship from before. Look, I want my memory to come back as much as you do, maybe more. And if and when my memory does come back, I'll gladly apologize again for all the stupid things I've done, and will do, as a result of not being able to remember. It's the _if_ part that worries me…"

She squints, pulls the jeep to the side of the road. "Let me get this straight: you want to date me because you think there's a possibility that you'll never remember me?"

"It sounds dumb when you say it like that." He shakes his head, tries to reorganize his thoughts. "It's just…" he pauses to sigh before offering a shrug. "I get the feeling you meant-mean-I don't know… a lot to me, and I don't want to lose that just because some ice cream decided to knock the memories out of my head. I just think maybe we should start at the beginning, instead of just waiting for something that might never happen."

"Ok." With that, she pulls the jeep back onto the road, continuing the trip home.

"Ok?"

"Ok, I'll date you." She gives him a small smile, her expression fading as she catches his grin.

He studies her, waits for details. "But?"

"But, I'm not just going to sit you down and tell you the whole story of us. I'll tell you a little bit each day if you really want to know that badly, but not all at once."

He nods, considers what she's saying. "Fair enough."

* * *

After making plans to stop by the home repairs store first thing in the morning, the two get ready for bed. Pyjama clad and sleepy eyed, they stand at opposite ends of the bed and pull down the covers together. Discarding extra pillows at the side of the bed, they settle in for the night. Sure, it's not as comfortable as it should be, but with their new agreement in mind some of the awkwardness begins to dissipate.

After saying goodnight and turning out the lights, the two lay in bed in silence. Jules replays the night with the Wordsworth family, wondering what that must be like, and if she and Sam stand a chance of having that given their latest obstacle. Sam wonders what will happen if he falls asleep – will he wake up with his memories back? Will he wake up with an arm around her out of habit again? Still, there's one question that nags him more than the rest.

"Jules?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened to Lew?" he whispers, swallowing hard. He hears her take a deep breath, then waits in silence, wondering if she'll actually tell him. He's not sure he wants to know the details, considering what he's been able to glean from her response to the question earlier in the day.

"A few years ago we responded to a bomb call."

His eyes widen against the darkness as he waits patiently for her to continue.

"Environmentalists planted three bombs, and called them in. The first one detonated as we got on scene, but no one was injured. The second took some time, but Spike was able to disarm it." She pauses, a shuddering breath escaping her lungs. "Thing is, we had to split up to get to all the bombs in time, which meant we had to send Lew to get started on the third while Spike finished with the second one."

On his side of the bed Sam stiffens. He's got a pretty good idea of where this is going and is sure he doesn't want to hear the rest. He's about to tell her he can fill in the rest when she continues.

"But the guy who set this last bomb, he was a real piece of work. So he set the last bomb, and then set a series of landmines around it." As her voice cracks she clears her throat, unsure of whether she should continue. "Spike… he was so determined to get Lew out of there. He was so sure that if he could just think a little harder, try a little harder, he could save Lew, that when Lew stepped off he just… well, we all just…"

"We had to watch." Sam clenches his eyes shut, willing himself not to curse in horror at what she's told him. The silence returns as they both fight to regulate their breathing, teeth gritting on one side of the bed as hands plead with eyes not to tear on the other. "I um… I mean I'm sorry that… I wish I…"

"I know." She nods to the darkness. "Listen, it's been a really long day. Let's get some sleep, we can talk more in the morning."

He nods, adding his agreement verbally with the realization that in the dark of their bedroom she cannot see him. He lays in the dark thinking about what she's told him – wondering how close he and Lew were at the time, wondering how that didn't send him running from the SRU. He was sure he had escaped such horrors when he left the army. He has so many more questions – how long was this after he joined the team? Did the team have to find a new member? How did that go over? What about Lew's family?

His thoughts are interrupted by the soft sounds from the opposite side of the bed. At first he wonders if maybe she just breathes incredibly loudly when she's sleeping, a theory quickly set aside as he thinks back to that morning when he'd woken up before her. A small sniffle confirms his suspicions and he frowns, feeling a pang of guilt over having brought up the discussion of Lew right before bed.

He can't explain why he does it. Maybe it's because he feels sorry for her, maybe because he feels miserable for making her go there. Maybe it's because he doesn't know what else to do, but he does it. Reaches one tentative hand over to her shoulder, and with the smallest of tugs invites her. She quickly accepts, rolling over to bury her face in his chest. Exhaling deeply, he wraps his arms around her.


	5. Samiable

**A/N: Just to avoid any confusion, for the purposes of this story (as with every other I write) Sam's friend from the military that died is named Matt. Why? Because that's what FP made him named originally. This bit about his name being Ben in Behind the Blue Line really doesn't work for me. Also, for some reason, the name Ben bothers me. So, he's Matt.**

**So tonight's the big night - in Canada at least. The Series Finale. I'm about ready to cry and it hasn't started yet. Tonight could be what kills me.**

**Oh, and sorry about the title. Its not my best Samthing.**

**FOR TRISH **

**WHOSE BIRTHDAY WAS A LONG TIME AGO. **

**THIS IS HER BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM ME.**

**BECAUSE SHE'S AWESOME.**

**BIG ENOUGH SHOUT OUT GIRLY?**

* * *

One hand against the wall, he braces himself, raising his face to meet the pressure of the shower head. As the water – having run cold long ago – beats against his skin with a painful chill, he wonders if the remaining shivers and shakes are simply due to temperature.

Flashes of the dream swarm his mind in a blur and he tries to focus. Tries to figure out what it is he's been dreaming about and, more importantly, why the dream has him waking in a cold sweat, panic stricken, with tears threatening.

Upon waking he'd immediately climbed out of bed in spite of his quaking muscles, determined not to wake Jules as he struggled to regain control over his breathing. He'd managed to find his way to the washroom, where, in what had to be an example of superhuman strength, he managed enough control over his shaking to rid himself of the now sweat stained t-shirt and shorts he'd fallen asleep in and climb into the shower.

Running down the list he considers the options. It could be his sister he's been dreaming about. He could be reliving her death. Death. That would certainly be the kind of thing that would result in him waking in a dehydrating sweat with every muscle in his body screaming in pain as it quivered.

It could be Matt. He often dreams about Matt, about what happened, about it happening again, only in the dreams he has a front row seat and full knowledge of what's going to happen though he remains powerless to stop it. At least, that's what he used to dream about. 4 years ago.

Shutting off the chilling water, he finally steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. Drumming his fingers on the countertop, he nods, rationalizes again that yes, it was just a dream, yes, it probably was about Matt, and yes, he has to accept that it was an accident. Wrong place at the wrong time.

Still, something doesn't add up. If it's dreams about Matt that have him waking in a cold sweat, why is it Jules' name he's calling as he wakes?

It could be because he knows she's there, knows she can comfort him. Thing is, in the fit of emotions the dream provokes, he isn't sure how he could summon that kind of conscious effort while still half asleep.

It hits him then that maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe, just maybe, it was a memory. He did, after all, convince her to tell him about Lew on Saturday night, and that could certainly have been the cause of things. Maybe that small amount of knowledge she was able to share with him was enough to pull a memory out of the mental abyss that amounts to roughly four years.

Though it would make sense, like the theory that he's been reliving Matt's death, the idea that this is all about the memory of Lew doesn't quite sit with him.

Grabbing his watch off the sink he notes the time - almost time for he and Jules to leave for work. He's not likely to be back at work full force for a while, but when Sarge called Sunday afternoon wondering if he'd mind coming in to do some paperwork on Monday he jumped at the opportunity. Anything to get him into another familiar place where he can hopefully straighten out his brain. Anything to get himself out of the house. Any change in his _routine_ would be welcome after the days he's been having, except for yesterday. Yesterday was a pretty decent day.

_"I noticed we have a porch," he thinks aloud, joining Jules in the kitchen. They'd been busy painting the upstairs hall for the greater part of their Sunday, the result of a successful trip to the home repairs store._

_"What? Where?" she laughs, winking at him._

_"Anyway," he continues, throwing her an only slightly unimpressed glare, "I was thinking that could be our date for tonight."_

_"Date with the porch?"_

_Sam scowls. "Date on the porch. You know Jules, if you're not interested that's fine..."_

_"No, no, definitely interested. I'm sorry, that was terrible… blame it on the paint fumes?"_

_He nods, smiles. "Will do. So, what do you say? Order some Indian food, hang out on the porch… answer me a question or two about what I'm forgetting?" he offers, giving her his most desperately charming look._

_"I'd say that sounds pretty good, but with one modification: pizza instead?"_

_"Even better," he smiles, watches with curiosity as she moves to the fridge. _

_"I was thinking we could just get it delivered but we're out of beer so we might need to go out anyway. Unless of course you want milk with your pizza," she smirks, closing the fridge behind her._

* * *

_A successful trip to the liquor store and a pizza shop later, they return home. Setting the pizza box on the counter, Jules grabs two plates from the cupboard, along with forks and knives 'just in case'. Following her lead, Sam sets the brown paper bag on the counter and begins emptying it. Quickly eying the wine Jules picked out, he makes a mental note of the label before settling it on the wine rack. Next he pulls out the six-pack of beer he'd met her at the checkout with._

_"Just out of curiosity," Jules asks, arranging plates and utensils atop the pizza box as she speaks. "Why'd you get that kind of beer?"_

_He hadn't thought of that. For some reason it was the first thing he picked up in the store and he never looked back. Checking out the side of the case he shrugs. "I have no idea." When she simply smiles and nods in return he frowns. "Is this stuff even any good?"_

_"I think so; it's kind of my favourite," she tells him, grinning as she grabs the pizza off the counter and leads the way to the back door. _

_Taking a seat on the porch with his back against the brick of the house, Sam watches as Jules places a slice for each of them on a plate. He thanks her with a smile and returns the favour by handing her a beer. _

_Opening his own bottle, Sam pauses and turns to face Jules. "To new memories… and hopefully some old ones."_

_She grins, nods, and taps her bottle against his before taking a sip. _

_Surveying the yard, he thinks for a moment. "We don't have people over much, do we?"_

_She nearly snorts, shakes her head. "No, no we don't. What gave it away?"_

_"Well, for one thing we don't have any chairs out here, so I can't see a barbecue going too well. Also, is that a hole?" he asks, pointing towards the corner of the yard._

_"Sure is," she laughs, taking another sip of her beer as he watches her in confusion. "After the hallway we're fixing the backyard, and you've got big plans for that corner. Tree sized plans."_

_For a moment Sam studies the spot, considers how it would look if that hole was replaced by a tree, though he's missing something. "Ok, but if we're finishing the hallway first why is there already a hole? Isn't that kind of jumping the gun?" _

_Jules laughs, helping herself to her second slice of pizza. "We had a subject last week who just couldn't be bothered to listen. It turned out alright in the end, but you were so pissed off you came home and insisted on digging that hole."_

_"Seriously?"_

_She shrugs. "Well, we might have also argued about which side of the yard to put the tree on, so it's possible you did it just to piss me off."_

_"Oh." He nods, his expression quickly turning into a frown. "Do we fight often?"_

_"No," she assures him, giving a sympathetic smile, "we don't. We have disagreements, but I wouldn't say we fight. Even then, it's not anything major. Like the night you dug the hole: you were cranky and looking for a fight, so you picked the dumbest thing you could think of, and dug a hole."_

_With a smirk he shrugs. "It's a good place for a tree."_

_Laughing she rolls her eyes. "Don't start with me on that damn tree."_

_"Fine," he agrees. "So, where was our first date?"_

_She smiles- she knew it was only a matter of time before he asked the questions. "My house."_

_"Oh?" He asks, one eyebrow raised. _

_"Dating in secret doesn't leave many public places for dates."_

_"Uh huh," he smirks, thinks for a moment. "Second date?"_

_"Your apartment. Like I said, dating in secret doesn't pair itself well with the dinner and a movie type evening."_

_Smiling, he nods his understanding. "And what about now?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Do we do dinner and a movie now or are we still the hide in the house type?"_

_She grins. "We go out, from time to time. Work hours don't make it easy but…you know, we try."_

_He gives a quick nod before taking another sip of his beer. "We should."_

_"We do," she smirks, gives a quick eye roll, thinking about what she just told him. _

_"No, I mean we should. Tomorrow maybe, or the night after. Grab dinner and a movie, or just dinner, or just a movie… go out somewhere." It's not that he doesn't like their current setting - frankly he's nothing short of thrilled to discover she's perfectly content to hang out in their own backyard and dine under the stars. Or clouds, as the case may be. "So, what do you say?"_

_She smiles, takes him in for a moment before nodding. "Sounds good."_ _As the rumble begins, she raises her gaze to the clouds above, smirking to herself as she shuffles backwards and closer to the house. "Every time," she groans, though she gives a small chuckle. A well practiced routine, she slips the patio door open and tosses the near empty pizza box inside. _

_He gives a laugh, moves their bottles aside and follows her lead, remaining as close to the house as possible. She must have some practice in these situations, because as the sky opens up in a fury of raindrops the two remain dry under the small overhang of the roof. "This happen a lot?"_

_"Only on date night."_

_He smiles, relaxes as he watches the rain build a puddle in the hole he dug, turning it from a tree's home to a kiddie pool. _

_They've only been there a few months, but she knows that porch like the back of her hand. She knows, without looking around, that she's going to get wet if she stays where she's sitting so she moves. Slides over to her usual spot - snugly tucked into Sam's side. She doesn't mean for it to be a thing - just wants to stay dry, and perhaps soak up some of that warmth that's felt so far away these past few days - but it is. _

_He sees it coming before it happens. Watches as she moves closer, stopping just beside them. They're touching. Not touching touching, but aside from some unconscious movements in his sleep the other night they've never been this close to each other. At least, not that he can remember. _

_It's nice. And it feels like the thing to do so he does. Tosses an arm loosely around her shoulder. She doesn't flinch, or pull away. Instead she tilts her head, lets it rest for a moment on his shoulder as she watches the rain. _

_It's like it's how it's supposed to be. Just the two of them, their backyard, the rain. There's no weird tension, no feeling like something's missing, no hopelessly wishing for memories. He may have no memory of where they've been, what they've been through, where, or for how long, but he's happy. _

_There's a short gust of wind and she's up in a flash, tugging his hand. He takes the hint, follows her hurried movements inside the house and locks the sliding door behind them. Just in time for the rain to change direction and start it's assault on the side of the house - the one they were just sitting against. _

_"Called it," Jules announces, smirking at him at she picks the pizza box up off the floor. She sets it aside on the counter, making a mental note to put it out in the garage on their way out in the morning. _

_He joins in, putting away the beer bottles and slipping the plates into the dishwasher. _

_"So where should we go?" she asks absently, wiping down the counter. _

_"For dinner? I've got a place in mind." _

* * *

When he joins her in the kitchen she smiles, hands him a freshly poured cup of coffee. "Ready to go hang out HQ?"

He sighs, shrugs. "If by _hang out_ you mean do paperwork until my fingers fall off, then yes. I'm completely ready."

With a sympathetic smile shakes her head, turning to wash her own coffee cup out at the sink. "It's just until your doctor signs off on you being in the field. Who knows, if things go well tomorrow morning you might even be able to look after restock this month," she laughs, turning to watch his reaction. When she's greeted with a scowl she sighs. "Relax. At the most he'll probably just ask that you hang out in the truck a few days. Before you know it you'll be back to your old self - chasing down subjects and wowing them with your geometry skills."

"Geometry?"

She clears her throat. "We should get going."


	6. Sammunition, Samgria

**A/N: So... Here's the chapter that seems to have taken me something like 6 months. Oops. I got myself into a lovely 2 job arrangement and was working 7 days/week...**

**Anyway, the title... Basically, I couldn't decide on just one Samthing for this chapter, so it has two.**

** You guys can thank Tirsh for this one - nag nag naggity nag nag she did, and here it is. :) **

* * *

**Sammunition/Samgria**

He follows Jules into work because really, she's the only one he knows. Well, he supposes, _know_ probably isn't the best word. He doesn't _know _her, not really, not the way a boyfriend should. He doesn't know what her favourite colour is, where she grew up, what kind of family she comes from. He can't remember their first kiss, or first _anything else_ for that matter. Still, he figures, he knows her a little better than the rest of his coworkers. He's fairly certain he hasn't been sleeping next to Ed all weekend.

It's not how he remembers it. Winnie was always pleasant, but she'd greet him with a somewhat sympathetic _Good Morning_ in his early days. Clearly she could tell he wasn't quite fitting in right away. Now, she gives her signature greeting, but there's a curiosity in her voice and he shrugs and gives a small laugh because he doesn't need to remember much about her to know what she's curious about. "Not a thing."

She smiles at him, offers a sympathetic one to Jules before shrugging, and turning back to whatever she was working on.

Whichever other team is on shift must be out, because he's only seeing people from team one. For that, he's relieved. He's got this image of that guy from team three, whose name he doesn't know even though he's sure he learned it at some point, looking his way with that _does he really not remember?_ look on his face, so he's not at all upset by his absence.

"Sammo! Where's my coffee?"

He figures he's made some kind of face because before he knows it, Ed is laughing and shaking his head.

"Third Monday of the month - what, did you forget?"

"Ed-" Jules begins.

"I'm joking, Jules, alright? Sammo, the Boss is in the briefing room."

He nods, turns to Jules who offers him a quick smile before they part ways - her to the locker room, him to the briefing room to begin what he's sure is a massive pile of paperwork.

* * *

It's not that he doesn't enjoy paperwork. It's that he hates it. Has a full-on passionate - dislike of paperwork. Understands why he pays so much for some guy with horn rimmed glasses to crunch the numbers come tax time every year because frankly, even the forms they had him fill out during his hospital stay were just a little too much, and even that was only his name and date of birth.

Sitting back from the table he sighs, takes a self-imposed break from the paperwork. He's long past finished the ones specific to his injury and successfully moved on to the review Sarge so graciously bestowed upon him. He figures the man knew he was tired of sitting around the house and pulled the paperwork together just to keep him busy for the day. That, and he may have suggested he take a crack at restock, for _fun_ of course. He turns in his chair, has a quick peek out the window, wishes for a moment that he could be in the truck with Jules, Spike, anyone patrolling whatever it is they decided to patrol. He shrugs, reminds himself it could be so much worse - military _light_ duties worse - and decides to give restock a shot.

He's hardly paying attention but he finds the gun cage and sets to work. He even smiles a little because, as it turns out, he may not remember his girlfriend but he sure as hell knows his way around the gun cage. Knows which shelf is for what, and where he can find more of it.

One thing leads to another and before he knows it, team one is returning from patrol and he's laughing along with Spike's jokes, feeling slightly less lost than he thought he would.

He wonders for a minute how the after work thing works between he and Jules. Debates going and standing outside by the jeep, then wonders if he should knock on the door of the women's locker room and ask how long she'll be. He opts for the middle.

He stops at Winnie's desk, is wondering what to say to her when she starts the conversation herself. Asks about his day, if his hand has cramped up from all the writing, offers him a tootsie pop from her desk drawer on the condition that he doesn't tell Jules where it came from. He declines, figures it'll provoke some kind of interrogation on the drive home. Instead, he grins when she joins him, pitches an idea for dinner on their walk to the jeep and nearly clicks his heels in glee when she agrees.

* * *

She scans her closet, hates it all. Doesn't shop often - mall hours and SRU hours tend to conflict - so all she really has are jeans and t-shirts, and a few dresses she picked up specifically for special events. Somehow though, she's thinking last year's Christmas party dress isn't quite the right tone for the evening. When she finds the simple black dress at the back of the closet she shrugs, figures it's not the worst dress in the world and puts it on. Forgets for half a second that it's the same dress she wore last time they visited that restaurant. Pretends not to be hoping it refreshes his memory.

She stops by the bathroom mirror and grins, mentally pats herself on the back for not slacking on her hair after showering at work. A quick touch up to her hair and she reaches for her makeup bag, rolls her eyes at herself and puts it back on the shelf. Tells herself she needs to get off this thing. This first date jittery thing has got to stop. This is _Sam. _She's been on a million and one dates with the man, places cleaner, places grungier, and places farther away than where they're going tonight.

Still, she gives herself a quick once over in the mirror, ensures that she's satisfied with the way she looks. It's just that he started this dating thing, and, as much as she refuses to consider the idea that he might never remember her, she's determined to make good on this fresh start thing they seem to have going on.

"Ready to go?"

She almost jumps at his words - a true testament to just how anxious she really is - before shutting off the bathroom lights and joining him back in their bedroom. "Let's go."

* * *

"So I have a question."

She nods, smiles as she takes a quick sip of her drink. "What else is new?"

"Cute," he smirks, shaking his head. "This anniversary we have coming up... which anniversary is it, and what is it the anniversary of?"

She nods to herself, takes a long sip of her sangria before answering, "it's our one year anniversary. From when we got back together."

Sam nods, seems satisfied with the answer and goes back to his dinner.

Letting out the breath she's been holding, Jules turns her own attention back to her food.

"Wait, did you say we got back together?"

Jules sighs, sets her fork back down and nods.

"Why did... When did... We broke up?"

"We did," she confirms, gnawing on her lower lip nervously.

"Why?"

"Well," she begins, choosing her words carefully. "It's sort of a long story."

"And?"

"Basically, work got in the way. Hiding a relationship isn't exactly the easiest thing, and it didn't really work for us the first time around."

Shaking his head, Sam rubs at his eyes. "I hate not being able to remember these things."

Jules gives what she hopes can be a comforting smile. "I wouldn't worry about that bit too much - it wasn't exactly the best of times between us."

"I'm sure it wasn't, but I still want to know for myself what happened. You didn't think I should know this sooner?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"What was I supposed to say, Sam? 'Hi, I'm your girlfriend you don't remember and oh by the way we broke up for a year or two but we're fine now'? Really, Sam?"

Frowning, he removes the napkin from his lap and sets it on the table. "I'm sorry, I just... I need some air," he mutters, rising from his seat and heading to the door.

"Sam?" Jules watches in confusion as he walks across the restaurant, down the steps to the front door, and out onto the sidewalk. Muttering in her own frustration, she fumbles through her purse for enough cash to cover their bill, passing it to their server as she passes him on her way out the door.

She's shaking her head as she catches up to him. "Sam, why does this bother you so much?"

He quickens his pace, running a hand over his face in frustration. "It's just... what if I never remember? How the hell is that supposed to work?"

"Sam..."

Shaking his head he doesn't bother to turn to face her, doesn't bother to slow down any so she can catch up. "No, I'm actually asking here, Jules. You can tell me everything a thousand times but it won't mean a damn thing unless I can remember it. I'm sorry I asked you to tell me these things - it's completely pointless."

Catching up to him she grits her teeth, nearly throws herself in front of him and successfully halts his movements. "It's not pointless."

"Oh? What is the point then? What's the point of me knowing we broke up if the break up and the make up are a complete fabrication to me?"

She pauses, tries to put together the words.

"Exactly," he mumbles in answer to her silence and pushes past her to keep walking.

"The point is... what else are you going to do? Just walk around not knowing any of your history from the past 4 years? Any of _our_ history?"

"Actually, yes. I think that's for the best," he admits, slowing his steps and turning to face her where she stands in shock a few feet back on the sidewalk. "How am I supposed to keep up a relationship when I can't remember a damn thing? This whole thing has been like some kind of nightmare I can't wake up from. I'm in some dreamlike reality where I have this girlfriend and a house and a life I don't recognize. Don't get me wrong, Jules, if I had designed this mess myself I couldn't have picked someone better than you - someone more amazing or supportive, and god you've been so unbelievably supportive - but I don't think I can do this. I can't live with only what you're able to tell me because I can't remember for myself, and I can't just walk around worrying about letting someone down because I don't remember the things I should."

With a tentative step forward she shakes her head. "Then don't. You aren't letting me down. You couldn't."

He shakes his head in disagreement. "I could - will. You shouldn't have to constantly look after me. You deserve better than that."

"Sam-"

Frowning, he cuts her off. "I'm going to go stay at Nat's. I'll probably be by for some stuff in the morning, and I've got a follow up at the hospital tomorrow so you won't have to worry about seeing me at work." Taking a deep breath, he turns and walks away.

"That's it?" she calls after him as she watches him go. Feet frozen on the spot she shakes her head - the Sam she knows would never walk away like that. The Sam she knows wouldn't have walked out of a restaurant in a huff like he just did, no matter how frustrated or angry or upset he was. The Sam she knows...well, he sure wouldn't let her get away with this kind of stunt, so why should she let him? "Samuel Braddock, you get your ass back here."

The rage in her voice is powerful enough to make him stop walking, and terrifying enough to force him to keep his back to her. "Jules..."

Shaking her head she walks towards him. "No. You don't get to just leave because you're having a bad day. So tonight you found out something you'd rather not know, so what? You don't get to just walk away because you're frustrated or angry or scared that you'll screw up. Stop worrying about how not to hurt me and let me worry about how to make sure you're not falling apart at the seams because you don't remember something. That's what I'm here for."

"No, it's not."

Biting her lip she shakes her head, her rage surfacing as she finally comes to stand in front of him. "Yes. It is," she insists, bringing him down to her level with a tug on the collar or his jacket so that she can kiss him. She feels him relax into the kiss, only to pull back a few seconds later.

"But Jules-"

"Shut up."


End file.
